


Boussole

by holysmoaksoliver



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holysmoaksoliver/pseuds/holysmoaksoliver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna and Oliver bond over a hospital visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boussole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [effie214](https://archiveofourown.org/users/effie214/gifts).



Oliver was in the hospital waiting room when the unmistakable blonde stepped off the elevator. He had been sitting there for hours and in his bleery-eyed state, he almost mistook her for her daughter, not that he would ever admit that out loud to either of them.

He stood, feeling slightly awkward extending his hand, but even more-so when she wrapped her arms around his middle and pulled herself close to him for a hug. “Donna,” he said, planting his feet to keep himself from stumbling backwards. The memory of Felicity knocking into him with similar force upon finding out he was alive tickled the back of his mind, but he forced it away. “I’m sorry to call you like that,” he said, clearing his throat and putting an unsteady hand on her back for comfort.

“How is my baby?” she asked into his shirt. She stiffened immediately and then pulled herself out of his arms. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. I just… was so grateful that you called and I’ve been worried sick the whole way to Starling. Have you been in to see her yet? Have you heard any more about her condition?”

Under other circumstances he might feel the corners of his mouth tick up in a smile. Clearly the Smoak women shared more than just their blonde hair and good looks. Babbling seemed to also run in the family. But these were not normal circumstances.

“She’s alright,” Oliver answered, feeling unqualified to even tell her that much. The doctor had explained a lot of technical jargon to him a few hours ago that basically boiled down to… “They told me she has a cracked rib and a mild concussion but she will be able to go home tonight most likely.”

Donna furrowed her brow. “They told you all of that?” Oliver smiled weakly when understanding dawned on her. “You are her emergency contact. I should have expected as much with the way she--” She cut off, looking passed Oliver toward a room where the door opened and Caitlin Snow and Diggle exited along with a doctor. “I assumed visiting hours were--”

Oliver dragged a hand down his face, not sure how to explain to Felicity’s mother everything that had transpired between them since he’d come back to Starling after being impaled and nearly killed by the head of a league of assassins. There were some things that just didn’t make sense out of context.

“Felicity and I aren’t on the best of terms right now,” was his only reply. Because for as much as had happened in the weeks since his return, the fact that Felicity wasn’t speaking to him at the moment had much more to do with the events of that night than it did with his partnership with Malcolm Merlyn.

Diggle clamped a hand over Oliver’s shoulder, giving Donna a warm smile and hello. “And this is Caitlin,” Diggle said, gesturing to the petite woman at his side. “She is a friend of Felicity’s from Central City.”

“Were you there? Did you see the car accident?” Donna asked.

“No,” Caitlin shook her head. “But I’ve checked her logs and she’s got the best doctors working on her. She seems to be in pretty high spirits, but that might just be the drugs she’s on.”

The concerned blonde glanced at the door, and then back at Oliver. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Of course not,” Oliver answered, watching her disappear into Felicity’s room. Caitlin had shrugged into her jacket and waved goodbye, leaving Oliver and Diggle in the waiting room. After a moment of pacing, Oliver reclaimed his seat where an empty coffee cup and his discarded jacket marked the hours spent since Felicity had first been brought in.

“You’re really not going to go in there?” Diggle asked.

Oliver chewed on the question for a moment. “She seemed pretty adamant about not wanting to see me.”

Diggle let out a sigh and Oliver knew what it meant. It meant that his friend thought him childish and stubborn. And maybe Oliver was those things, but he also had come to respect Felicity’s wishes-- at least when it came to not wanting him around.

“She’s just mad about Palmer,” Diggle said finally. And maybe it wasn’t anything that Oliver didn’t already know, but the name of the man who’d taken everything that Oliver had ever cared about always made Oliver feel like he was swallowing acid.

“It was less than he deserved,” Oliver said through gritted teeth. The silence from Diggle was deafening. Oliver always knew he was in trouble when Diggle didn’t speak, didn’t try to fix things between them. “How does she look?” Oliver asked finally, eyes darting to his friend sitting beside him.

“Nuh uh,” Diggle answered with a shake of his head. “You want to know, you go in and see her. I’m not doing that fifth grade, note passing stuff with you two.”

Oliver heaved another sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. In his head, he knew Felicity was fine. He knew she would be alright. The doctors had told him as much. But he had to see her with his own eyes, had to touch her with his fingertips, had to inspect her to know that nothing had been missed. The adrenaline that had coursed through him at Barry’s phone call was still gnawing at his insides, needing an outlet. There’d been an accident on Ray’s trial run with his super suit. Felicity had been caught in the crossfire. Oliver knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he laid eyes on her again. The waiting was killing him.

“Just go to her, man,” Diggle said, standing. “I have to pick up Sara from the sitter’s. But if you need anything, or anything just changes, call me.”

Oliver nodded, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat thinking about the last time they’d all been in this hospital together. It felt like years ago but strangely like it could have been yesterday. He could still feel the warmth of her lips pressed to his, could still taste the faint whisp of vanilla that had lingered after her, could still feel the way his own heart seemed to stop in that moment. Part of him had always known it would.

She completed him in ways he didn’t even know he was missing until he’d met her. Until he’d lost her. Until he’d chosen to lose her over and over again since then.

He was on his feet before he’d made the conscious decision to stand and he found himself pushing the door to her room open and peeking inside. His eyes found her quickly, just like they always seemed to. She was laying in bed, eyes closed, bandages wrapped around her head. Donna sat beside her, grasping her daughter’s hand. She turned at the sound of the door and motioned for him to come in.

“She just fell asleep,” Donna whispered, a small smile on her face.

Oliver claimed the chair on the other side of the bed, pulling it close to the bedside before sitting. “How’s she doing?”

Donna nodded. “She was pretty loopy. Talking about superheroes saving her. Superheroes that were her friends.”

“Oh?” Oliver questioned, feeling his stomach tighten a bit.

Donna’s smile softened. “She always had a good heart. Always wanting to save the world.”

His hand searched for Felicity’s on the bed beside him and he intertwined their fingers, cupping her small hand in both of his. It was only then that he felt himself relax.

“She told me something else, you know…” Donna said quietly, pulling Oliver’s focus from counting the cuts and bruises on her skin. He glanced across the bed at the woman that had the same light and fire for life that he always envied in her daughter. When Oliver didn’t speak, she continued. “Felicity told me she was waiting for you.”

He pursed his lips. “I was afraid she didn’t want to see me.”

“I don’t mean here, tonight,” Donna countered. There was something in her voice that reminded Oliver of his own mother, that made him ache for the advice she used to give him when he was younger. “She told me that you’ve been lost. And that she’s waiting for you to find your way back.”

His chest tightened again, and this time it didn’t release. Oliver cleared his throat. “I went away before Christmas,” he explained, poorly, hoping that Donna wouldn’t ask him for any more details than that. Easier to explain away an actual disappearance than an emotional and moral one. “You said she was kind of loopy?”

A long moment of silence passed between them. Donna stroked her daughter’s forehead and Oliver wondered how many fevered brows she’d soothed over the years. How many cuts and scrapes she’d bandaged. How many times she had comforted Felicity in a way that Oliver would never be able to.

“Felicity grew up without a great role model as far as relationships go,” Donna said, her voice sounding a bit wistful. “But I was lucky to have parents that adored each other.” She paused, meeting Oliver’s eyes as if gauging his reaction before continuing. “My father was stationed in France for most of World War Two and when he came back, every term of endearment he had for my mother was replaced with one. ‘Boussole’.”

Oliver frowned, unable to find a reference of meaning for the word. He’d studied and learned plenty of languages over the years, but French wasn’t one of them. “It means ‘compass’,” Donna said, reaching across the bed and patting Oliver’s arm. “He used to say that no matter where he was or how lost he felt, my mother would always guide him home.”

Oliver swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Donna’s hand left his arm and he watched as she stood and headed for the door. He gave Felicity’s hand a gentle squeeze. Donna hesitated at the door, turning back to him.

“Did… uh… did you really punch out her boss, Ray Palmer?” Donna asked quietly.

Oliver heaved a sigh, glancing at his still red knuckles wrapped around Felicity’s hand. “He let her get hurt,” Oliver answered.

Donna nodded, biting her bottom lip. It was a tell he’d picked up on from Felicity-- when she wanted to tell him something but was afraid of his reaction. “I’m sure it’s not my place,” she said with a frown. “But she’s been hurting long before the car accident tonight.”

And then she disappeared, leaving Oliver alone with the woman he loved and the slowly dawning realization that for all his talk of protecting her, he’d been doing more harm than good to them both. But there was hope too- hope in the one thing he’d always known deep down but could never put to words. Felicity was his compass, his boussole. And she would guide him home.


End file.
